


One More Night

by babybirdblues



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I mean it, Murder, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, non graphic torture, one more time: HURT NO COMFORT, somewhat graphic descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybirdblues/pseuds/babybirdblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But no.  Dick wouldn’t be Dick if he did.  He lives for throwing them off and then doing his best to move into the area that’s opened up for him.  It’s the way he’s still grinning at Tim that shows it.  It makes something in Tim’s chest tighten.  A few months ago, that grin would be strained.  Now it’s lighter.  Like it was before - before everything.</p><p>Tim can almost believe nothing has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartslogos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartslogos/gifts).



> So this contains a lot of triggers. Some I haven't tagged for because I wasn't sure. If you spot one let me know and I'll tag for it okay?
> 
> Anyways I'm actually really proud of this piece. First one I've really been proud of in a long time. (First one I've really written in a long time.) It's crossposted to my tumblr.

The quiet jazz music tumbles and weaves through the air around them.  The restaurant is full of soft furniture and warm colours.  Their table is partially hidden in an alcove near the kitchen.  Sara - their server and daughter of the owner it seems - keeps checking in on them.  She wants to make sure they're having the best night they can have.

All in all, it's quaint and low-key - and Tim can't really believe Dick knows a place like this.  Truthfully, Tim can't remember Dick ever mentioning a place like this.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice is whispering that he chose this place for Tim. 

Because Tim would like it.

He does. 

That's probably the part that makes it hard to stay distant with Dick.  Tim still hasn't quite forgiven Dick for the past - well, it doesn't really matter.  Dick's trying.  Tim's trying.  They'll work it out.  Taking Tim out for a big brother-little brother only dinner was just another step on their recovery.  Bruce seemed to be proud of them at least.

"So handsome," Dick is playing with the napkin on his plate.  His eyes are flitting around the restaurant, not really taking in anything as he decides what to ask.  "Do you think it's possible for a man to get pregnant?"

Choking, Tim lowers his glass slowly.  Dick's grinning at him unrepentant.

"I just wanted to know if you were actually paying attention."

"You couldn't have timed it better?"

But no.  Dick wouldn't be Dick if he did.  He lives for throwing them off and then doing his best to move into the area that's opened up for him.  It's the way he's still grinning at Tim that shows it.  It makes something in Tim's chest tighten.  A few months ago, that grin would be strained.  Now it's lighter.  Like it was before - before everything.

Tim can almost believe nothing has changed.

But they - Dick and Tim - have.  They're not the same as they were.  They're not Dick and Tim anymore.  That little voice in the back of his head wonders if they _ever were_ Dick and Tim.  Shaking his head he huffs.  "I'm paying attention Dick.  I wouldn't dream of _not_ paying attention.  I do remember our Friday movie nights."

It's obviously the right answer though, because Dick's smile is near blinding.

"Good.  Good.  Now I know you said you didn't want anything for your birthday bu-"

A scream from the kitchen - Sara, she's the only woman working tonight - cuts Dick off.  It's shortly followed by the muffled noise of a gun - the silencer is high quality to manage to get the gun that silent.  It barely echoes in the restaurant.  Dick is on his feet before Tim.  He wishes he were back in top form, but the fever he had last week took a lot out of him.  Tonight was also sort of a celebration for him feeling better - as well as whatever plan Dick had had.

Before this.

The only on-duty cook is lying on the tiles just inside the kitchen door - the other one, on the opposite side of the restaurant.  Tim hasn't seen so much blood on a white floor in a long time.  The last time he was visited by Jason, maybe.  Probably.  He remembers cleaning up his own kitchen floor.  It took a week to get the blood out of all the grout.

Dick's in front of him before Tim realises that there is a gun pointed at his chest.  This isn't the first time they've been on the receiving end of a gun.  This won't be the last.  But they're Dick and Tim not NightwingslashBatman and Robin. 

The gunman grins.  It's bordering on the edge of manic.  His eyes flicker back and forth between the two of them for a while before he speaks.  "I know who you two are."

Tim automatically tenses.  There's many ways that the gunman could mean that sentence.  Hopefully he's not an old acquaintance of any of the Rogues - he'd be an unfortunately intelligent acquaintance at that.  Knowing their luck he is.  Because Tim certainly doesn't recognise him and Dick doesn't seem to either.  So it's not someone recent or someone large.

"Two Wayne boys out without daddy.  You'll get me some good money."

Oh.

The gunman - now titled Idiot Number One (I-No) because Tim's over this whole scene right this very second thank you - is just another regular criminal.  They're Dick and Tim right now.  Of course he knows them.  All they have to do is play the part of rich socialites, or in Tim's case slightly awkward rich playboy, and they'll be fine.

They can handle this.

Except, another gunman is coming out from the back office.  He's dragging Sara by her hair, a bag of cash slung over one shoulder.  "No witnesses right?"

Sara starts vocally sobbing as she's thrown onto the body of the now-dead cook.  Tim wants to help her move away as she keeps slipping on blood.  But the gunman hasn't wavered: his gun is still directly pointed at Dick and Tim, even when his attention isn't on them.

"Ah.  Shame.  Forgot 'bout that detail," I-No glances at his partner.  "S'why we chose this place wasn't it?"

"That is was.  So don't you be ruining our good thing by messing this up.  I might have to mess _you up_.  Got it?"

Dick's hand twitches.  He's going to do something stupid.  But Tim can't seem to find his voice.  It's there though, stuck in the part of his throat that feels like it's collapsed in on itself.  If he could just get it to work.  Tim would probably be better than Dick at talking their way out of this situation.

"So fellas.  Can't we talk this over?  I mean, I have a hot date to get to tonight once I get my little bro home to daddy."

It's Sara's scream that alerts him to it.  Because Tim doesn't register anything had happened at first.  Dick's still in front of him - well, actually, Dick's fallen back to lean on him, to rest in his arms.  Tim feels like he's carrying one of the weighted training dummies.  Dick's pretty much a dead weight in his arms.

I-No's partner sighs.  "You couldn't have gotten them both in one shot?"

"Oi.  If you want to be the one killin' the witnesses you kill the fuckin' witnesses."

Both of them ignore Tim as he drops to the ground, carefully cradling Dick to his chest.  "Dick?"

He gets a bleary blink in response.

"Tim," Dick swallows, gagging a bit.  "Oh.  Hey Timmy."

Tim watches as the blood bubbles up around Dick's lips.  It makes a startling contrast to his now pale skin.  Each breath, each wheeze makes another bubble.  Each bubble pops and creates a new splatter on Dick's chin, on Dick's cheek.

"Timbo.  Handsome.  Look," Dick has to pause as he begins to cough.  It's painful to watch.  "look little brother.  I love you.  I love you and I am so, so sorry.  Please don't cry.  Not for me."

His voice barely makes it to the end of the sentence.  It takes his hand falling, from where it was going to wipe at Tim's face, for Tim to realise that yes, he is crying.  He thinks a whine escapes his throat.  But he's having trouble breathing.  So, it'd probably be difficult for his throat to make any noise.

Sirens are blaring someone outside of the little bubble - ha, bubble of blood - Tim's constructed.  The flashing lights wreck havoc on his eyes, which are already in aching from the tears.  He feels all too hot while at the same time all too cold.  Perhaps his fever from last week isn't as gone as he thought it was.  Or maybe he's just going into shock.  Distantly he hears swearing and loud voices.

"Damn it Dan.  You should have just shot him earlier!  Leave him now, we have to run."

The corners of Tim's vision black out and all he can see are Dick's eyes - oh so very dead - staring up at him.

\------

Tim wakes to his alarm clock blaring.  Six thirty in the morning.  Just enough time to get ready for a short day in the office.  On a normal day that is. 

But today he wakes in a panic.

Scream locked in his throat.

His heart is jarring inside his chest; stuttering and overall seeming like it's trying to beat its way out of his ribs.  He can't breathe.  There's a weight in his arms that is pressing down on him.  The phantom sirens are too loud.  The phantom lights too bright.

His bedroom ceiling is stark.  Dark.

Dick's eyes stare back at him.

Dick's dead eyes.

A harsh sob escapes Tim.  Even as he tumbles out of bed to find his phone the tears continue to come.  He needs to hear Dick's voice.  He needs to talk to him. 

But his hands are shaking.

He can't see the screen.  How can he dial if he can't see the screen?  Tucking his head against his knees Tim focuses on breathing.  Nothing will get done if he keeps panicking.  Slowly the tremors in his limbs cease.

There's a bang on his door.  Dimly he's aware of Damian running down the hall cursing at someone - Dick, that's Dick's voice.

But.

It was a nightmare.  That's it.  Just a nightmare.

Another bang on the door makes Tim jerk and fall off the bed.  Dick pokes his head into the room, laughing at the sight of Tim sprawled on the floor.  "You okay Timbo?  Come on get up.  You gotta head to work, and then we're going out for dinner.  You're gonna love the place I chose."

Dick doesn't notice Tim freeze in the process of picking himself up off the floor.  He remembers that last sentence clearly.  Another time, another situation.  Dick insisted Tim would love the restaurant he chose.  Dick ended up dead.

It wasn't a nightmare.

-

Tim refuses to go out for dinner.

Anything but dinner.

Dick takes it in stride.  He acts offended but he can tell something is wrong, so, he lists a bunch of other things they can do.  One stands out in Tim's mind.  Haley's Circus.  It's back in town and holding lessons of sorts for children.  They asked Dick to come teach.

It sounds like a good idea.

-

It wasn't.

Well, all right at first it was.  Everything went well, the children were enjoying it - Dick and Tim were enjoying it too - until Dick took two of them up onto a high rise platform.  It was supposed to be safe.  One of the two got jealous of the attention Dick was spending on the other.  She pushed her partner, making her tumble off the edge.  Dick didn't even think before he followed.

Tim watched in horror as Dick managed to curl around the little girl.  Second by second they got closer to the ground.  Just like the night that took Dick's parents.  Tonight though, it was Dick who was falling to his death.  There will be no more Flying Graysons, not even the one-man show.

He doesn't know when he closed his eyes.  When he closed them, the sounds of the circus disappeared too.  He didn't hear the crunch of Dick hitting the ground, or the screams of the children.  He didn't hear the crying or the wet gurgling of Dick struggling to breathe.

All of it was blocked out.

Until he opened his eyes.

There was so much blood.  Tim could see it all from where he was still frozen in his seat.  He watched as it slowly leaked out of Dick.  Watched as Dick's eyes focused and unfocused, sought him out in the pressing crowd.  But he couldn't bring himself to move.

The blood was still there after the ambulance left - after Tim managed to follow after it.

-

Bruce is there when Tim arrives at the hospital.  But Dick hasn't been taken into any of the operating rooms.  Tim can tell by the way Bruce is standing, his shoulders slumped, eyes broken.  Dick died on the way there. 

He died again.

His body doubles over and Tim gags.  He doesn't dare look at Bruce, even when he feels his hand settle on the back of his neck.

\------

Tim wakes before his alarm goes off this time.  His eyes stay closed; the graceful curve Dick's body made as he fell is imprinted on the back of his eyelids.  He fights off the nausea.  It takes more time than he's willing to admit - because Dick's not dead anymore. 

Not if today followed yesterday's pattern. 

He'll be back in his bed in his - temporary - room in the Manor.  Dick will still be fast asleep in the room next door.  Sometime during the day today Dick is going to invite Tim out.  He's going to agree because he's trying to fix things between them.  He wants the relationship they had back.  He wants to be Dick and Tim again.  But Dick is going to die today. 

Bile rises in his throat at the thought.

So, Tim needs to figure out a way to save Dick.  How he doesn't know, but he's going to.  He has to.  Because watching Dick die twice is two times too many.

Eventually he crawls out of bed.  Mostly to go wash away the burn from his irritated eyes.  He winces, offhandedly remembering why he hates letting tears dry.  His skin always feels like it's going to crack open - _like Dick's head almostkindof did on the floor of Haley's yesterday_ \- and he really needs to invest in a good moisturiser if this is going to become a ritual.

Except the loop restarts every night, it wouldn't matter if he bought any.

The alarm clock blaring startles him.  He fumbles with it, having to try a few times to get it to turn off.  Perhaps he's still in shock.  Not his body of course because his body hasn't gone through anything traumatic yet.  But his mind could still be in shock.  He should make a test to memorise: "The Ways to Tell You're Still in Shock: Because You Keep Waking up in the Past for Some Fucked-up Reason, Only to Watch Your Brother Die."  Though two times doesn't really count as 'keep waking up'.

Dick's not going to die today.

Dick died today.

Tim doesn't understand.

He can't.

He can't understand why, or how. 

Dick was safe. 

They were in the middle of the park.  There was no way that Tim couldn't have seen something coming to injure or kill Dick.  There was no way Tim couldn't have stopped something coming at Dick.  Just to make it worse, it was well past the time that the other two deaths happened - ten at night whereas the previous deaths happened before seven.

Dick was safe.

Except he wasn't.

The car came out of nowhere - and really who drives a car through a park to escape the police? - and Dick had no time to move.  They didn't even hear the sirens.  Not until they were from the ambulance coming for Dick.  They didn't need to be there for Dick.  He was pronounced dead at scene before they even got there, so, they stay for Tim.  Tim who they claimed was 'in shock, please put on this blanket young man'.

Tim wants to go with Dick though.

It doesn't matter anyways.

Tomorrow he's going to wake up to this morning.  He's going to have to do it all again.

Though, tomorrow he's going to save Dick.

He will.

\------

Tim left early, well before the rest of the Manor woke up, and went back to his apartment.  He figured that if he wasn't with Dick, then Dick wouldn't die.  In the slow ticking minutes, the time waiting for the loop to reset, the time waiting for Dick to die, Tim has done the calculations: he's the only common factor other than Dick himself.  So if he's not there then Dick will survive today.

He was wrong.

Dick doesn't survive today - the next loop.

All because Dick decided he was going to come to Tim if Tim wasn't going to be where he was.  He didn't understand that Tim was doing it for his own good.  (Though, how do you tell someone that you're stuck waking up morning after morning on the same day, only to watch as your brother dies over and over?  You can't, not without being considered mentally unstable.)

Truthfully, Dick had refused to be ignored - and that was what Tim had been doing.  He had been sitting in his dark apartment, ignoring all of his phone calls.  That is, until it got to be too much.  He picked it up, only for Dick's cheerful, "Hey Timbo I'm fifteen minutes away. Just at the corner near the library."

Tim tried to argue.  Dick was having none of it though.  He said he promised Tim a bonding day.  He promised a bonding day and he swore that he wouldn't break another promise to Tim.  Never again.  Any other day Tim would have been grateful for the effort Dick was putting into it.  But when you're living the same day over and over, watching him die over and over: well, Tim wishes Dick would have broken this promise. 

Just once more.

The bridge collapsed on top of Dick's car just as he was passing under it.  The TV reporter - a fake blonde who was putting too much emotion into a simple story - called it tragic, and that the young Wayne hadn't stood a chance.  The bridge collapsed too quickly.  It happened five minutes after he talked to him.  Five minutes after Tim spoke to him on the phone.  Dick should have stayed away. 

Instead, Dick was crushed.

Guess Tim wasn't the common factor.

\------

Dick's chattering in his ear.  It's been a non-stop thing since Tim woke up this morning - again - and told him he was free to spend the day with him.  Saying Dick was elated was an understatement.  There probably isn't a word to describe how happy Dick is about today.

It's breaking Tim's heart.

(At this rate his heart is going to be shattered into a billion shards.)

Because he knows Dick's just going to die again.  He doesn't know how to stop it.  He couldn't stop yesterday's loop, or the one before that.  He doesn't even know what is causing the loops.  But, he supposes, as long as the loops are happening, he has a chance to save Dick.  If he can figure out how to get out of them and save Dick before he dies - well, he can stop it all.

Tim rolls his eyes, tapping his thumb against the back of Dick's hand.  Dick entwined them earlier so he could tug on Tim's hand whenever he thought he wasn't listening.  Like now.  Letting out a hum Tim can see Alfred smiling in the rear view mirror.  Somehow Dick convinced him to drive them down to a restaurant - not the restaurant from the first night Tim would have _refused_ \- he swears by.  Since all of the deaths have been when Dick was either alone or just with Tim, he's hoping that if Alfred stays with them Dick's death will be put off until Tim can figure out how to save him.

It doesn't happen.

They're just waiting to turn left onto the street the restaurant is on.  Their light is green so they should be safe, but a semi runs the red.  It t-bones the car - Dick's on the side it hits and Tim watches in horror as the car collapses inwards towards him.  Dick doesn't even have the chance to get out of his seatbelt.  His right leg gets trapped under the warped door.  Just as Tim reaches out with his free hand a piece of the metal frame embeds itself into Dick's throat.

Alfred is pulling Tim - bloody and bruised and broken, oh so terribly broken, but alive - out of the car. 

He has to pry Tim's hand out of Dick's.

Tim's slowly becomes aware he's still screaming.

\------

Tim promised tomorrow to Dick.

It's been a week since the car crashes really started, each one slowly carving away at Tim's nerves.  The first one - the one when he hid in his apartment - is the only one he hasn't experienced with Dick.  But still it's only Dick who keeps dying.  Tim, somehow, keeps living.  Always before he reaches a hospital where they could _save_ him.  It's almost funny. 

But Tim can't take any more car crashes.

Tim can't take being trapped beside Dick in a metal cage as he dies.

So, he promised Dick tomorrow.  One way or another - even if tomorrow is just another loop no one else but Tim knows about - he's going to keep that promise.  Because Dick's going to work today.

Tim may have taken measures to get Dick called into work.  But it will be worth it.  Dick won't die of another car crash and he'll be safer with the other officers.  They're always looking out for each other.  Not that Tim isn't.  He is.  But he's still.  He's part of the loop.  Part of the issue.  Dick may survive with them.

Except it feels like he's being compressed in a vacuum as he listens to the - appropriated - police radio.

_"Shots fired.  Officer down.  Suspect fleeing on foot, in pursuit."_

They don't have to say which officer was shot.  Tim knows.  He can feel it deep in his bones, in the way they ache as he struggles to stay standing.  He can feel it in each breath he struggles to take in.

Work was supposed to keep Dick safe.

Dick was supposed to live.

\------

Thirteen.  That's the number of times Tim's woken up now, woken up after Dick dies.  Fourteen is the number of times he's actually died.  Ten is the number of times Tim's woken up with a scream stuck in his throat.

These loops seem like they've already been going on forever.  Even when he knows they haven't.  Tim thought he had broken the habit of counting everything.  He really had.  But now he's catching himself counting minutes, wondering if the next one is when Dick's going to die.

Tim isn't the common factor - except really he is: he's the only one who remembers - Dick is.  How do you save Dick from himself?  He can't even ask anyone.  It's not like he even talked to anyone on a regular basis before the loops.  He only stopped by occasionally to help out.  Mostly when Bruce asked, which was because of that stupid email.

He avoided Dick the last loop. 

Plans on avoiding him this loop too.

Probably the next one as well.

Just until he stops feeling the need to vomit every time he sees Dick.  He's going to figure out a way to fix this.

(He's not sure if he means the situation or himself.) 

So he'll throw himself into research on how to stop the loop.  Commit it to memory - the loop resets and he has to start all over again - and pretend he's not slowly breaking each time he hears Dick is dead.

-

Daniel Wilson.  That's the name of the original man who killed Dick.  He's a kid - nineteen - from a middle class family who took up crime because he liked it.  His partner's name is Jordan Paul.  Again a kid - seventeen this time - from a slightly less well-off family who took up crime to pay for school it seems.  Neither of them have any big connections.  No connections to any of the Rogues.  No connections to any other cities.  They're just small time criminals and that first night before the loops started, Dick and Tim were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Tim should know. 

He's spent at least a week of loops searching for all the information he could on them. Neither of them have any connections that could cause the loops.  Neither of them could have caused the loops.   Tim's best lead for figuring out how to fix this is gone.  He's at a standstill.

But, it was just enough time to get over the nauseous feeling every time Dick was within sight.  He's also learned how to stop flinching whenever he's near.  Or whenever he hears the news of Dick's death.  After the one Jason just said he looked dead.

Tim's not sure if that's a good sign or not.

At least he's more in control.

Being in control is what's going to get him out of this.

\------

Tim can't save Dick.

He's proven it time and again.  The only solution then, is to _not_ be Tim and have Dick not be Dick.  They'll be Red Robin and Nightwing.  In being Red Robin and Nightwing they'll survive - well, Dick will survive and in turn _everything_ will be all right.

Except Bruce wants Tim to patrol while he gets the missions finished.  He actually requests it of Tim but it's more of an order, even though he's sending the rest of the family on actual missions.  Like Dick back out to _Blüdhaven_. 

Tim's not happy about that.  But he can't argue.  Not without giving everything away.  He's in control now.  He's in control and things are going to be fixed. 

Red Robin can fix this.

-

Midnight is minutes away.

They're going to make it.

Tim nearly laughs in elation.  Dick continues to chatter away on the private line, oblivious to the thrill that Tim's feeling.  He fumbles behind him for the ledge of the building, forcing himself to sit down before he falls.  The relief is maddening.  Dick is going to make it.  The loop shouldn't reset.

"-and then I sai-"

Dick cuts off abruptly.  There's laughter echoing through the com.  Ugly laughter that's slowly being overtaken by a hitching sound, which is actually Dick trying to breathe.

_"Little boy Nightwing without his daddy."_

Midnight is five minutes away.

It's five minutes away and Tim can hear the struggle.  Dick is struggling with whoever is talking to him.  The little hitching breaths he's taking sound painful.  Tim stops breathing just to count them.  They stop when he gets to twenty-six.

The laughter starts up again.

Tim screams.

\------

This time Tim sticks with Dick.  He fought Bruce on it, probably surprised him with how vehemently he argued to go on the mission with him.  He relented though.  Sent them off to deal with Ivy.

(He's glad Bruce relented because Tim might have had to do something drastic.)

They were okay.

At least up until Ivy managed to separate them.

Tim still doesn't know how she does it.  One minute they're back to back and the next Dick isn't anywhere to be found.  Tim admits he might have panicked. 

Just a bit.

But then he finds Dick - alive and whole.  Ivy is sent off to Arkham without much fuss - and that should have been what set off alarms in Tim's mind if not the smirk - and they returned to the manor.  Bruce even told them that they did a good job.  Not in so many words, and mostly just to Dick, because it was mostly Dick who did the work, but it still counts.

Midnight is approaching, so, Tim can't help but feel hopeful.

Any hope shatters at ten thirty. 

Dick tenses in his seat beside Tim - they're writing up their reports and maybe making fun of Jason - hands scrambling at the desk as he falls sideways.  Tim doesn't have time to catch him.  Doesn't have time to even register that Dick is dying before he's stopped breathing, lips tinged blue.

Bruce is there within seconds, Damian at his heels.  It's no use though.  They're not going to be able to save him tonight.  But Tim might be able to save him tomorrow.  He'll have to remember this.  They can take the same mission.  Avoid being split up.  He'll know what to avoid.

Damian starts yelling, crying.

Tim throws up.

\-------

It takes Tim days - well loops really, it's very inconvenient to have to reset all of his research - to figure out what Ivy's new poison is.  Throughout it all, Dick _keeps dying from it_.  Tim does figures it out.  It releases from a pod, hours after the pod it released into the lungs of the victim.

Ivy is keen enough to realise that killing Dick will destroy Bruce the most.  (Not to mention the rest of them.)

Tim decides he'll take Ivy on tonight.  She always had a bit of a soft spot for him anyways.  He can use that to his own advantage - keeping Dick alive in the meantime.  The undercover mission would probably be best for Dick.

Bruce is easy to convince.

(Tim's gotten so much better at that.)

Dick is the best at the undercover missions.  He blends in a bit more at clubs, feeling the most at ease.  He laughed and said it would be easy.  He'd be home before Tim.

Tim took him at his word.  Bruce took him at his word.

(Tim should have known better.  He's the one who keeps waking up to the same morning.  Who keep waking up to Dick dying over and over.)

None of them took into account the new drug.

Tim finds Dick dead in a back alleyway on his way to meet up with him.  He's overdosed on the drug, which the dealers forced on him, so he could show that he wasn't a cop or a snitch.  The needle is still halfway in his vein, shoe lace tied around his upper arm.  There's a bruise slightly formed on his chin, like someone punched him.  Other bruises are scattered across his arms.  Someone held him down.

Dick didn't take the drugs willingly.

A noise - half feral - escapes Tim's throat.  He doesn't even realise he's making for the club.  He just needs to do something.  Anything to get the itch out from under his skin.  Anything to get the image of Dick slumped in the alleyway out from the back of his eyelids.

Tomorrow he'll finish with Ivy in enough time to stop this.

\------

Jason _killed_ Dick.

 _Jason_ killed Dick.

Jason killed _Dick_.

Tim doesn't even respond when he feels Jason's hands tug at his arms.  He didn't even think this was a possibility.  There was more a chance for _Tim_ to be killed by Jason than Dick to be killed.  Tim thought he was going to die a few times tonight actually.  Tonight was one of Jason's Pit Nights it seems.  Funny, through all of the loops, Tim's only just learning that. 

This probably could have been prevented.  Because Tim decided that the Jason mission was the safest mission for them to go on.  Since, you know, Jason wouldn't kill Dick.  There was a very, very slim chance of Jason killing Dick.  Tonight was Tim's choice.

(Like all of the other nights.)

It was an accident though.  Jason went a bit too far trying to get Dick out of the way.  He threw him a little too hard, a little too far.  Dick couldn't untangle his hands fast enough.  He hit the ground.

Ten stories.

Tim lets out a laugh.  This is worse than the week of car accidents.  The week of overdoses.  The week of poisonings.  Because it was Jason.  Jason who's still their brother.  Still someone they love.

Jason killed Dick.

When Tim manages to look up - away from Dick's blank eyes - Jason's eyes are as glassy as his own.

It doesn't help.

\------

Dick worries.

Tim's been odd since this morning.  He's been refusing to leave his room.  Ever since Dick went to check on him he's been flinching, and really, just generally looking sick.  He's been trying all day to bring it up with the family.

But they won't listen.

Damian keeps saying that Tim's acting like he normally does - and why should he care?  Jason refuses to pick up the phone or return his texts - ass that he is.  Alfred seems to have noticed but he thinks that it has to do with Tim's missing spleen - and the guilt behind that makes Dick flinch.  Cass nodded and then disappeared somewhere in the house - Dick hasn't seen her since.  Bruce on the other hand hasn't listened at all - he keeps walking away before Dick even starts to talk.

It's frustrating.  Dick's ready to punch something.  Or someone.  Someone works. 

As long as it's Bruce.

Speaking of -

"Bruce!"

Bruce sighs but stops at the top of the stairs.  "Yes Dick?"

"Look I know you're busy.  But can we talk about Tim?  Something's wrong.  He was fine this morning and then-" Dick makes a noise like an angry cat.  Bruce did not just slash his hand at him.  He did not.  "Look you may not care about Tim but I do."

He's aware it's going to start an argument.  He says it to start one.  At least then Bruce will listen.  Though, he'd rather they not do this in front of Tim's room.  Because he's going to raise his voice.  Bruce is probably going to raise his voice too.

Titus comes bolting down the hall, crashing into Dick's legs.  He teeters dangerously for a minute before the weightless feeling of a fall takes him.  Bruce tries for his arm.  But he misses it, his arms being laden down with papers as it is.

The worst part is: Dick can't seem to grab a hold of anything as he falls.  He should be able to grab a hold of something.  He should be able to get his feet underneath him.  But he can't for some reason - and no that reason isn't Titus, who trips him up, again, halfway down the stairs.

Tim's stricken face - Dick's glad he finally came out of his room but at the same time he hurts that it's now that he did - is the last thing he sees.

\------

This is it.

This has to be the way out of the loop.

Tim hasn't found any other ways.  It's been over a month - or has it been more?  He doesn't know.  It's hard to keep track when the day resets - of loops and in everyone Dick has died.  He's never been able to save Dick.  Every time he's tried he's failed and Dick has still died.

But Tim has lived.

So then, perhaps, if Tim were to die then the loops would end.  They might not.  He might wake up tomorrow back to where he started.  He might not and his family will have to continue on without him.

He's okay with those odds.

Anything for a chance to get out.

It takes the most of the day to get his affairs in order.  (Just in case.)  When he finishes it's time for patrol.  The Joker's out tonight - was he out in the other loops? Tim doesn't remember - and Bruce wants Dick and Tim to stay together.  But that won't work.

Dick will stop him if he knows.

Tim knows that.

He leaves Dick somewhere near Crime Alley, slips away to go find Ivy and ask her to help him.  She will.  He knows she will.  The new poison will work well.  No one will know it's in his system until it's too late.  None of them will be able to save him then (and maybe the loops will end.  He hopes they will.).

He gets a call from Bruce just as he's making it to Ivy's greenhouse.

Bruce is angry.  Extremely angry.

Tim understands.

The Joker has Dick.

Tim let it happen.  Tim was supposed to be with Dick on Patrol.

(He wasn't.)

Bruce calls in Jason and Damian and the Birds, everyone he can.  Because it takes everything they have to find where the Joker is, where Dick is.  By the time they get there though - well, Dick isn't recognisable.  Tim can't feel anything as he stares at the broken mess that was once his beloved older brother.  He let this happen.

 _He let this happen_.

How much did Dick suffer this time?  Most of the other deaths were quick, were accidents.  None were this.  None were torture.

Tim doesn't register falling to his knees.  Doesn't register anything until Bruce lands a hit.

"This is your fault."

It is.

It is - it takes the combined efforts of Jason, Damian and Black Canary to keep Bruce from hitting Tim again.  But the damage was already done.  He didn't need to land anymore hits.  The words were enough.

(This is your fault.)

The Joker figured out what Ivy had too.  Dick was essential to them. 

Kill Dick and destroy them.

(This is your fault.)

Tim can't bring himself to care if the loops begin again tomorrow.

\------

The next time Tim wakes up he wakes up blank.  All of it is his fault.  There is no way to escape the loops.  He saw that yesterday.  This is his punishment.

(I love you and I am so, so sorry.  Please don't cry.  Not for me.)

But he won't let Dick suffer for Tim's mistakes.

Never again.

(This is your fault.)

He just, doesn't know how to make it so Dick doesn't suffer.  Because it's been proven to Tim time and again that Dick is going to die.  But Dick was trying.  Dick was trying to fix things.  To make things right between them.  To show Tim that he still loved him.  That he still needed him.

(Look you may not care about Tim but I do.)

Dick keeps dying, keeps being killed, keeps being tortured -

(They're not going to make it.)

\- oh.

That's an idea.

If others are going to kill and torture Dick, Tim will have to make sure that he's not there for them to kill and torture.

Humming to himself he prepares for the day.  He'll get Dick to come over to his apartment later.  He should have a bottle of Ambien left.  Dick won't notice it if he mixes it in with his drink.

(This is your fault.)

\------

Dick has never looked good in red.  Tim remembers one day when he first became Robin - back before Jason was alive again and before they knew about Damian, back when they were happy - when Dick tried a red Nightwing costume.  It didn't work well.  So yes, Dick has never looked good in red.  Maybe that's part of the reason Tim was always so upset in the prior loops.  Whenever someone else killed Dick they tended to cause him to bleed a lot.

(It wasn't a nightmare.)

Or maybe it was just others stealing Dick's attention away.  Dick wanted to fix things between them.  What right did anyone else have to ruin that?

(Tim screams.)

Either way, Tim's in control now.  He's in control and everything is okay.  Dick is fine.  Dick isn't suffering.  No matter how long the loops go on, no matter how long Tim's stuck in them, they'll be okay.

(I love you and I am so, so sorry.  Please don't cry.  Not for me.)

Tim curls around Dick.  He's cold.  But not for long.  Tomorrow morning he'll be warm again.  Warm and alive and smiling for Tim.  Maybe tomorrow Tim will ask Dick to sing for him, just like Tim's singing for Dick right now.

(This is your fault.)

Slowly tears splatter down onto Dick's face.

 


End file.
